December 12th, 2018 - Wednesday
'Vampires, it makes so much sense now.' The same thought goes through my head as I get dressed, as I check my bruises and such. I trudge down the steps with a gentle sigh, eyeing the granola bar on the table with caution. Seeing my name written on it I decide to take it, knowing that this might be the last time I eat in a while. As I walk out the door I catch the familiar scent of cinnamon at the end of the driveway, yet another piece of the puzzle.
Munching on the bar happily as I trudge through the snow, I wonder when he'll finally snap. Thankfully it's bright and clear outside as I walk to school, a light smile coming to my lips for the first time in awhile. Though as soon as I step through the door that all changes, especially as I'm shoved into the locker.
"Faggot," Some jock spits down at me as I push myself off the ground, part of me wondering how they found out I was bi but the other part knowing that it doesn't matter. I decide to just brush off the incident as a one time thing but when I see the picture taped to my locker I know it won't be. There, and on a few other lockers as well, in full color is me and one of my ex-boyfriend's and I kissing. A few even have the picture of Lexie and I making out on the beach, dread settling in the pit of my stomach as I tear them down.
I take down every picture by the time school starts, barely making it to first period on time. I take my seat with a soft sigh, ignoring the way half the class is staring at me like I'm a circus show and the other half just glaring at me in disgust.
"Is anyone ready to play?" Mr. Masen inquires curiously, gold eyes glancing around the room though he truly thinks no one is prepared. Except me. I slowly raise my hand, cringing internally when he calls me up to the piano with a slightly shocked tone. As I walk down the aisle I notice someone's foot sticking out so I subtly step over it and keep walking, that same trick used against me back in New York.
I sit down at the piano and marvel at the instrument as I crack my knuckles, taking a deep breath before playing my song choice. Better of Dead by Sleeping with Sirens. I forget the pictures on the lockers, my abusive father, my shitty mother, and everything else as I play. I lose myself in the music, my fingers already familiar with the keys as I go through the notes. 'I may not have played in a while but it's just like riding a bike.'
When I play the last note I realize that the room has fallen silent and that Mr. Masen is watching me with a slightly shocked look that matched his tone from earlier. I awkwardly sit on the bench as I wait for someone to say something, even my douchey peers shocked into silence.
"Well done, Harper. Go ahead and take your seat, but I'd like to speak with you after class." Mr. Masen calls out, all eyes on me as I practically sprint to my seat. I pull out my sketchbook to alleviate some of my anxiety, starting a new drawing while the class dissolves into whispers. Some about me, some not.
When the bell rings I've devolved into a raging pit of anxiety, worrying about whatever the hell Mr. Masen wants to talk about. I tap my foot nervously as I stand beside my chair, thumb rubbing at my tattoo like usual. The hot music teacher smiles at me as he leans against his desk, hands stuffed into his pockets like a disheveled teenager. 'Or me I guess.'
"You said you didn't play any instruments, Harper." He states softly, his eyes boring into me as I study a particularly interesting piece of tile.
"I never said I couldn't play, just that I don't." I counter softly, flinching slightly when I realize how rude I sounded, but Mr. Masen just laughs it off.
"Touche, Harper, touche. On that note, how would you like to do an independent study with me?" My entire body freezes at his question, a cold chill running down my spine as I take in what he just offered me.
"S-sorry sir, but I need to be home immediately after school. My dad doesn't want me walking home in the dark," I explain quietly, brushing my hair back with a quiet sigh, part of me kind of wanting to do the study thing.
"I was thinking during lunch, you'd bring your food here and we'd play." He laughs happily, the sound just as perfect as the rest of him seems to be.
"Um, okay, sir. I'll be here after third period," I murmur in a rush, leaving the room before he can rope me into something else. I head to English and knock on the door, Mr. Black letting me in without a word though he's still smiling. As I take my seat and pull out my essay he finishes what he was talking about, the essay. We're supposed to be done with the intro done today and the first body paragraph by the end of class tomorrow.
I hand in my paper so he grade my intro, taking the criticism in stride and tweaking said intro. There wasn't much to change so I get started on the body paragraph, deciding to go with honesty rather than some bullshit job I'd never do. 'I honestly have no idea what I'm doing after highschool, I'll be lucky to get out of this hellhole.'
I glance up as the bell rings, watching my peers leave with a tired sigh. After this morning's incident I know I'm in for way worse, more than just being shoved into lockers. I gather my shit and head upstairs, two girls shoved me into the railing with an annoying giggle, said action pressing against the numerous bruises on my ribs. I keep trudging up the steps and to the art classroom, wincing a bit as I sit down at my lone table. 'I never noticed how few people are in Senior art.'
I pull out my personal sketchbook to work on my current drawing, well, starting the current drawing. I get done with the outline of the thing when I hear Mr. McCarty calling my name. I leave my stuff behind and join the large teacher in the hall, biting the inside of my cheek nervously. All eyes are on me as I step through the doorway, Mr. McCarty shutting the door to block the other students from hearing whatever he wants to talk about.
"My siblings and I saw a picture this morning, but I've been informed it wasn't the only one. Are you okay, Harper?" The gentle giant inquires curiously, gold eyes peering down at me as I shuffle awkwardly.
"I'm fine sir, this is nothing to compared to my other schools. I don't care who knows I'm a bisexual person, it isn't something I've been ashamed of in a long time." I reply slowly, running a hand through my hair, biting back a groan at the pain that flares through my left shoulder. 'Motherfucker this shit hurts. Even with my wolfie healing it's still too damn slow.'
"It's still unacceptable, Harper. This constitutes as bullying," I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I know what it is, though giving it a name doesn't make it stop happening.
"Sir, with all due respect, I don't care about it and neither should you. It's harmless teenagers doing their best to fit in, and that means picking on the outcast." I bite back, stepping back subtly so I'm a few inches farther back.
"Okay, Harper, but if it escalates come to me or one of your other teachers." I nod sharply and step back into class, avoiding my fellow students eyes with an inaudible sigh. 'Bunch of fuck nuggets.' I draw for the rest of the period though my heart isn't really in it, or my head for that matter. Finally giving up, I shove the book back into my bag and wait for the bell to ring, eager to get the stupid independent study lesson over with.
I stride down to Mr. Masen's room with a dark expression, hoping to dissuade anyone from coming near me. Apparently it works as no one says or does anything to me before I get to the door, some guy calling me a fag. 'Jokes on you, I already knew that.' I set my bag down on a random seat as I wait for Mr. Masen, deciding to plop down at the piano bench.
I grab one of the acoustic guitars from the stand and strum a few chords, humming along when I hear the door shut behind me. I quickly set the guitar back down and turn to face Mr. Masen, though it isn't just him. It's him and Mr. Whitlock. 'Why the hell is he here?'
"I guess you don't have to teach her guitar, Jasper." Mr. Masen comments absently, a gently smile on his lips as the both lean against his desk. "What else can you play?"
"Violin, drums, and cello." I recite quietly, mentally going through the rest but he doesn't need to know about those.
"Impressive, Harper." Mr. Whitlock states, his hand tapping against the table as I wait for them to say anything else. "Why do you play so many instruments?" I peer closely at the scars that litter every inch of exposed skin, glad that the humans can't see them because Mrs. Whitlock would probably be arrested for spousal abuse.
"Competitions mean money, variety means difference so bigger chance to win." I reply truthfully, not having a better excuse than the truth.
"Determination is a helluva motivator," I bite back a small smile at Mr. Whitlock's comment, knowing I shouldn't get too comfortable with the two of them. "I'll be off then, see you at home, Edward." Mr. Masen waves to his sibling-cousin thing as I don't know how clans work, the vegetarian turning to me with a smile.
"So I've only done two independent studies before and it usually started with choosing a goal. So, what do you want to be able to do by the time you graduate?" 'Look people in the eye, talk to people, have freedom.'
"Perfect my skills, I guess. I don't plan on music being my career, that's illogical." I reply softly, digging my nail into my bird tattoo with a soft sigh.
"Then that's what we'll do," He murmurs, tone gentle as if he's talking to a small child. "What do you want to work on first?"
"Piano." I answer instantly, my first instrument. Mr. Masen grins and comes closer to me, panic coursing through me so I scramble off the bench so I'm leaning against the wall, said teacher looking at me oddly. Thankfully he ignores it and sits down on the recently vacated bench, almost immediately descending into the song I heard him play earlier.
"I wrote this for my wife when we first met, though at the time she was just my girlfriend." He supplies, probably having noticed me trying to figure out what the hell he's playing. I just listen to him play, losing myself in the notes despite my better judgement to stay on edge and focused. 'Lord knows a snake can strike at any moment.'
"Have you ever written something of your own?" I shake my head seeing as I can't really do words for some reason, my throat constricting and my vision blurring a bit. "Then by the day you graduate I want you to have written your own music." I hear the bell ring and I swear I've never been more grateful for that obnoxious sound, practically running to the door in my hurry.
"Also Harper, my wife wants you to stop by her office after school." Mr. Masen calls out, smiling at me as I walk down the hall, narrowly dodging the jock who tries to push me as I step into Calculus. Mrs. Whitlock smiles at me as I hand her my homework, a knowing look in her eyes for some reason, as if she knows something about me.
"Okay class," She starts once the rest of them are here, a slight smirk on her lips, "Today we'll be having a pop quiz to make sure you've been paying attention." While the rest of the class groans I just take it in stride, glad that at least my fellow assholes will be quiet.
Mrs. Whitlock hands out the quizzes before taking her seat in the front of the room, eyes roaming over the room as we work. I breeze through the questions with ease as I've always been good with numbers, no matter what I'm doing. I hand in my quiz first before taking my seat and pulling out my sketchbook, resisting the urge to watch Mrs. Whitlock grade my paper. 'I know I did well but I still like to know it.'
I finish my tribal wolf drawing since I have plenty of time, signing my initials at the bottom right like always once I'm done. Thankfully class is over pretty quick and I can get the day over with, though Mrs. Whitlock has another idea. She calls me back as I get to the door, a questioning look in her eye as she peers at one of the tests. 'I'm going to say mine.'
"I just had a question about your test, that's all." She states, alleviating some of the fear I was feeling when she called my name.
"Did I fail?" I ask hesitantly, not sure what she wants to talk about other than a failing grade.
"Far from it, you have managed to excel at every quiz, worksheet, and test from every school you've ever been too." She explains simply, arms crossed over her chest as she perches on the edge of the desk. "I don't think you've paid attention once since you've been here so how have you been doing so well? Do you cheat?"
"I think it's funny that teachers automatically assume a student is cheating rather than believing that they know their stuff." I retort, running a hand through my hair with a soft sigh. "Look, I didn't mean to be rude ma'am. I just don't like people assuming the worst about me, especially when they don't know anything about me." Her eyes soften a bit once I'm done talking, almost as if she understands where I'm coming from. 'God knows she doesn't though.'
"My apologies, Ms. Reynolds. What's your secret then?"
"Eidetic and photographic memory, ma'am." I answer simply, hoping she doesn't want anymore information than that.
"That's amazing, I've never met someone that had both abilities." She exclaims, almost as if I'm some circus freak or sideshow attraction.
"A lot of people who have an eidetic memory tend to have a lesser version of a photographic memory, or vice-versa. Most don't know this but I found out when I was younger, a doctor did some test on me." I explain simply, trying to keep this chat short and to the point.
"Wow," She whispers, golden eyes wide as she regards me quietly. 'Wow indeed, Mrs. Whitlock, wow indeed.'
~_~.~_~
Thankfully no other teachers want to talk to me so I the rest of my day goes smoothly, until I remember that Mrs. Masen wants to see me. So I trudge downstairs and to the office, about to knock on the door when she opens it first.
"Afternoon Harper, mind if we give you a ride home?" I raise a brow but follow her outside nonetheless, Mr. Masen already outside and leaning against the car. "He used to do the same when we were teenagers." She comments, a nostalgic smile on her face as she greets her husband. I stand awkwardly by the door as they share a quick kiss, both turning to smile at me after a second.
"Get in, Harper." I do as Mr. Masen says, brushing my hair from my eyes as they take me home. I listen to them talk as Mr. Masen drives, though I'm more interested in the gently falling snow than their conversation. The ride is shorter than I thought it would be but I'm grateful for that, Mrs. Masen keeps giving me these weird looks.
I thank them for the ride as I make my getaway, letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding as soon as the door is shut behind me. 'Honestly, if the eyes hadn't been enough then the sweet cinnamon smell should've given it away.' I stop in the hall to listen for my father's snoring or the sound of footsteps but when I hear neither I just head upstairs.
I set my bag down in the closet as I make my way to my window, tugging experimentally on the bars before sitting down. I pull off my shirt and unwrap my chest, breathing out deeply as I take in the winter wonderland that is my backyard. I think about making my escape since none of the doors are locked but my father knows I won't leave, I can't. 'Where would I go?'
About two hours later I hear the rumbling of his truck and then the front door slamming soon after, panic gripping me like a vice. I quickly scramble into kneeling position by the door, holding my breath as his footsteps get closer. He kicks my door open roughly, the scent of bourbon and cigarettes invading my nose as he glares down at me.
Without a word he begins unlooping his belt, the action sending me back to when I was a kid and my parents were still together. I manage to keep myself from moving even an inch through self preservation alone, and maybe a little bit of stupidity. If I was smart I would run, like any sane person.
I hear the belt before I feel it, just a faint whistling through the air before it hits me. The buckle hits my upper shoulder first, my thin shirt doing nothing to protect me. Then my cheek, the sharp metal slicing my skin open with ease. Blood drips down my face and marrs my pale skin, like red rivers trailing through snow.
He snaps the belt again and this time it hits my collarbone, the sudden burst of pain making me gasp for air. I can hear my wolf side howling each time the buckle hits me, my wolf telling me to fight back but I know I deserve this. Thankfully when he's drunk he gets tired quicker, though tonight he's especially mad and doesn't let up.
He throws the belt to the side and kicks me roughly, a cracking sound filling my ears and an unimaginable pain taking over my body. I let go after that, just let the pain drown out the rest of the world. I don't know how long he hits me, but after awhile everything begins to blur and then gradually fades out. When everything finally goes dark I can't help but be grateful, at least that's the end. Right?